


Dazed With Moonlight

by thepointoftheneedle



Series: Dazed With Moonlight [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Drabble Challenge May, F/M, Fluff, Jughead is a cat, Supernatural Elements, Witch AU, then he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointoftheneedle/pseuds/thepointoftheneedle
Summary: The damn cat was always lurking where she least expected it, black fur rendering it invisible. Now it had started jumping onto her chest in the morning, staring at her until, blinking awake, she found herself gazing into its strange blue eyes. No one knew where it had come from. She was FaceTiming with Kev and absentmindedly stroking its fur as it purred when he remarked that she had a new cat. “Oh that? That’s not ours.” As she ended the call it looked at her and in a deep male voice said “Don’t call me “that.” My name’s Jughead”
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Dazed With Moonlight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806652
Comments: 55
Kudos: 143
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards — Winners!





	Dazed With Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the drabble above for the last Bughead Drabble Challenge and I’ve worked it up into a fluffy (see what I did there?!) one shot.  
> The title is from a poem by Amy Lowell which I have posted at the end in case you would like to read a poem about cats and plants.

She first encountered the cat, curled up on the rug in the living room, when she got home after classes. No-one admitted to having let it in. She pushed her socked toe against it gently to wake it up and then shooed it outdoors with a soft “Go home, Kitty.” It glared at her balefully but it went. Its eyes were striking. They weren’t the yellow or green that she expected but rather a cerulean of remarkable intensity. When she got home from her shift at Pop’s, exhausted, grease in her hair and ketchup on her uniform, it was back. This time it was on her bed, tail draped over its nose, snoring softly. It was a perfectly beautiful cat; its fur was like crown sable, as soft as silk and so black that it almost looked purple. She stroked her hand over the warm sleeping animal from head to haunch and it slowly opened one sapphire eye, appraised her as offering no possible threat, closed it again and resumed its snoring. It was dark outside, rain splattering against the window, and she didn’t have the heart to send it out alone into the night. “Just tonight then. You have to go home in the morning. This is definitely a one night stand mister so don’t go getting ideas.”

She began her night-time ritual, pulling out her ponytail elastic and brushing her hair, wiping off her makeup and washing her face. As she unzipped her uniform she noticed the blue eye fixed on her and she felt weirdly bashful. She picked up her pyjamas and took them into the bathroom to change, laughing at herself. “That’s a new level of uptight virgin even for you Betty Cooper,” she murmured to herself. She sat at the bureau with her journal for the few minutes that it took to record that she had received an A for her social studies project and that Trevor Brown had asked her to a party at Josie’s on Saturday. She’d agreed because Kev was always nagging her to put herself out there, as he expressed it, but she really wasn’t sure she liked Trev like that. “What do you think, Cat?” she asked the knot of black fur on her bed and it stood, stretching performatively like a yoga instructor and made its leisurely way over to her, threading between her feet and rubbing its head against her shins. “Well, at least you like me,” she laughed and went to bed.

The next morning she found the cat fast asleep in the laundry hamper on her Pop’s uniform but when she went back up to her room to fetch her backpack after breakfast it was nowhere to be seen. Thus began a frustrating game of cat and Betty. She wanted to find the owners and help it to go home but when she looked for it to take its photo for flyers, it was missing. When she asked her parents what they should do about the cat they denied all knowledge of the beast and it was nowhere to be found. She didn’t see it all day and then, unexpectedly, it seemed to coalesce out of the shadow under her bed or behind the door. The black fur absorbed light and so all she could see were the strange blue eyes, watching her intently from the top of the closet or behind the drapes. Sometimes she’d sit on the bed and there would be a yowl and a scratching ball of fury would shoot out from under the comforter looking at her indignantly. 

The next development was even more unsettling. It started to jump on her chest early in the morning so that she startled awake to find herself staring into its blue gaze. The eyes were almost human. “Cat, you’re an incubus. Get your paws off my boob.” The cat would give a slow blink and curl against her side and start to purr like a motorbike engine, deep and throaty. On Saturday it sat on her dresser as she tried to get ready for her date, knocking her mascara onto the floor with a curled paw, playing with her hairpins until they were scattered everywhere and generally making a nuisance of itself. She put on a new white sweater that she worried might be a little tight but that Kevin said was perfect when she texted him a picture. Then, just as she was about to leave, the cat jumped onto her shoulders and rubbed himself against her, leaving so many black hairs over the white wool that she just had to change or Trev would have thought she was a crazy cat lady.

The date was fine, Trev was sweet, the party was fun she guessed. She wanted more. The only sparks were the backyard fireworks. The only heat was in the Cheetos. The only time her heart lurched was when Cheryl did a gymnastic style dismount from her keg stand. Back home she took off her makeup, skipped her journal and put on her PJs wondering why she couldn’t just fall in love every week like Archie did. The cat was already curled up on her pillow so she climbed into bed next to it, said “G’night Cat,” and was lulled to sleep by its purr and its warm, solid presence.

Next morning she was FaceTiming with Kev, trying to explain why Trev Brown was never going to be Mr Betty Cooper. “He’s really nice Kev. Maybe that’s it? Too nice? I guess part of me wants a bad boy, wants Jim Stark, wants Bender from the Breakfast Club. I’m such a cliché.” As she spoke she was petting the cat who had taken up a position on her lap to wash, licking a paw and then stroking it behind the inky velvet of his ear. Sometimes he’d get confused and run his rough pink tongue along her arm instead making her giggle and tickle his belly in retaliation.

“OK, you’re just saying you want someone sexy. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re a strong independent woman and you want a hot boyfriend to give you what you need.” The cat abruptly stopped its ablutions and jumped off her lap, stalking away to lurk under the bed. “Hey, you’ve got a new cat. Cute. What’s it called?”

“Oh that? That’s not ours. It just turned up.” They tried to work through prospects for sexy boyfriends in the junior class but no one fitted the bill exactly. Eventually they ended the call and Betty grabbed her journal and went to sit on the bed to write. The cat jumped up and sat on her book. “Hey Cat, move please. I’m using that.”

The cat stared at her with its unflinching, uncanny blue gaze and then, in a deep, male voice said, “You called me “that.” I’m not “that.” My name’s Jughead.”

She flew across the room to stand, trembling against the door, eyes riveted on the creature. It looked back at her and then closed and opened its eyes in a slow blink. “Cats do that to show trust, it’s the closest thing we have to a handshake. Shaking hands is what humans do to show they have no weapons. We cats close our eyes to show that we know you aren’t going to hurt us. I’m right aren’t I? You don’t plan to hurt me?”

“You... can talk.” 

“Yes.”

You’re a cat.”

“Also yes.”

“Cats can’t talk.”

“Ah, we find ourselves in a logical paradox. Ok, let me help. Given that you have empirical proof that I am both a cat and can talk, I think you have to reframe your final proposition as “Most cats can’t talk.” Thus your paradox is resolved and your brain can stop returning that pesky 404 error.”

“I need to sit down. Why can you talk?”

“Non sequitur but I’ll go with it. What do you know about witches’ familiars?”

“Huh? Oh like Hermione and Crookshanks or Harry and Hedwig?”

“Not really. Rowling has gone for some witches’ familiar erasure there. Reducing us to pets and pigeon post. Hardly surprising I suppose given what we know now and certainly not the worst of it. No, familiars are magical creatures of all species...important point...all species. We work alongside witches and warlocks to develop and perform enchantments. So a witch’s familiar might be a snake or a bumble bee.”

“And you’re a black cat. And witches are real.”

“Oh, Yeah. Maybe I should have started there. Witches are real. And you’re a witch.”

“What! No I’m not. I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down. People used to say it was in the blood but it’s actually a gene. It’s recessive on the X chromosome, and you need two copies for it to activate. Women inherit it but in men it’s a mutation. Which is why there are more witches than warlocks. If it was more common in men it’d be a field of study but because it affects women it’s hysteria and superstition and mental illness. Amirite? Anyway it’s in both sides of your family." He must have caught her sceptical expression because he supplied an example. "Nana Blossom? Witch. Her familiar is a scarab beetle. Cool guy actually. We’re in the same book group. Can’t hold his liquor though.”

“You’re a cat.” Betty’s brain seemed to have retreated several steps to somewhere it felt safe.

“Well that’s my tragedy. Ok so there’s...I guess you could think of it as a kind of agency...When a person becomes a witch they're assigned a familiar, when a familiar comes of age they get assigned a witch. It’s pretty old school, no swipe left swipe right, you get what you’re given. If a familiar’s witch dies the familiar gets reassigned, if a familiar dies a new one gets assigned to the witch. My witch died.”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh well, it’s ok. She was really old. I mean I’d never ask a lady her age but she said she was lucky to get out of Salem alive. And her familiar before me had been ship’s cat on the Nina. So she was old when I was assigned. And she was starting to get confused about stuff. The magic leaves a kind of residue and it gets tough for witches to distinguish past and present, reality and fantasy, what is and what might have been, like we do. So anyway I arrive and she’s confused and doesn’t understand where her old familiar is and she gets upset a lot so I wanted to help. So I let her turn me into a cat and just pretend that I was him. I figured that she was old and it probably wasn’t for that long and it’d make it easier for us to work together. That was 1957.”

“You’ve been a cat for sixty years!”

“Yeah. I know. It’s weird. You meet folks and, if you look like a cat, they treat you like a cat even when you tell them explicitly that you aren’t really a cat, you just look like one. And after a while you even start to think of yourself a little like that. Can I just say I’m so sorry about the boob thing? I’m an animal. I mean like I am literally an animal but also it’s no excuse.”

“Really the least of our issues at the moment. What are you really?”

“Hmm, so I can’t tell you. Here’s the thing. A witch can make their own familiar look like a different creature but only the familiar’s witch can do it. My witch died, well I say died. She actually turned herself into a brief feeling of hiraeth being experienced by a Welshman living in Connecticut. I have no idea why.”

“Hiraeth?”

“Nostalgia for a home that probably never really existed. Kind of specific to the Welsh apparently. Anyway, you can’t come back from that. But she didn’t change me back before she died. And now I'm assigned to you. So now I’m your familiar and only you can change me back.”

“OK tell me how to do it.” Betty liked it when huge metaphysical shifts in reality came packaged along with solvable practical issues that she could address while her psyche caught up. 

“Wait, full disclosure. If you do it, then you’re accepting me as your familiar and therefore you’re a witch. Full witch for life. And it’s a long life. Witches don’t die from diseases because they just cast a spell and hey presto! They’re well. They only die in magical accidents or in encounters with angry peasants with burning torches. So a long life. And you can’t tell anyone. Not your family, not your boyfriend or husband, not your kids. No-one. If you want to, you can accept you have the genetic disposition but just ignore it, never cast and just have a close to normal life. And I stay a cat. They won’t reassign me til you die.”

Betty searched those blue eyes. He didn’t have to make that disclosure but he was laying out her options, knowing that her self realisation could deny him his. She thought that was noble and his example helped her to choose her course. “I want to help you. I want to be a witch. But why can’t you tell me what you are really?”

“No offence but you are going to be a total novice casting this spell, an enchantment virgin. Oh, and an enchanting virgin!” He chuckled. A chuckling cat is a macabre thing Betty decided. “Sorry, sorry, eavesdropping, sorry. Anyway, when a witch casts, the most important element is her mental focus. So if you think that I’m some particular kind of creature when you cast the spell, that will impact on how I turn out. If I tell you, then I won’t come back me entirely, I’ll come back your idea of that kind of creature.”

“But are you like a snake or a spider or something scary like that? I just want to be prepared.”

“OK I’m something way more dangerous than either of those but I don’t think you’ll be weirded out by me. I hope not anyway. Are you a vegan or a vegetarian or anything?”

“What? Why?”

Because these old spells are a bit eye of newt, tongue of bat. If you want I can try to wrangle a cruelty free version. They’re actually pretty good these days. A lot of the younger witches go for them.”

“Well I guess I’d rather not be handling a lot of bat tongues, if it’ll still work. It’s got to be better if nothing has to get hurt.”

“Ok, it’ll take me a few days to get ready and I’ll need a few things from the witches’ apothecary on Vine Street.” Again her scepticism about the existence of such an emporium in boring old Riverdale must have shown because he explained, “It’s disguised as a comic book store. Friday is the full moon so that’d be an auspicious night for it. Can you get a car? You do need to do some naked chanting; Fox Forest is generally best for that kind of palaver.”

It was a peculiar week. She spent her days in class, answering questions about calculus and copyediting Archie’s assignments which meant rewriting Archie’s assignments. Then in the evening she’d either go to work at Pop's or go home and learn about magic from her cat. He taught her some introductory incantations, a few basic passes using a wooden spoon as a wand, laughing at the idea that what the wand was made of could matter. “Magic’s pretty anti capitalist. It’s so not about what you own. It’s all about what’s in your heart. That’s another reason that it gets suppressed.” He also showed her how to cast an enchantment that made her parents see her sleeping in her bed, whatever she was actually doing at night. “It’ll be useful on Friday. It’ll probably take most of the night.” She also went to the comic book shop, where the shlubby guy with the ponytail who worked behind the counter responded to her incantation by turning into a pretty damn sexy centaur. She gave him the list that Cat who she was trying to remember to call Jughead had dictated to Siri and he handed over a brown paper bag that seemed to have a selection of old Pep comics but which, when she looked with half closed eyes, actually held a lot of little vials and packages. When she got home she remarked that the centaur had seemed nice and Jughead squinted at her and asked if he’d come out from behind the counter. She admitted that he hadn’t and Jughead nodded sagely. “Good, if he had you would have gotten a shock. Centaurs don’t make good boyfriends for nice virgin girls. Take my word for that. He’s all horse down there.”

“Oh my God Jughead! Stop will you?” She flushed as red as the beet juice that he was having her make as a substitute for the blood of a lamb and he chuckled in his disturbing way.

On Friday, on only her third try, she successfully cast the enchantment that made it look like she was asleep, took her bag full of ingredients, a thermos of hot tea, a flashlight and her warmest dressing gown and headed off to Fox Forest in her mom’s station wagon with Jughead sitting in the passenger seat, looking out of the window like a curious terrier.

They parked and walked into the forest. Jug trotted alongside her, leaping over fallen branches and occasionally stopping to sharpen his claws on a trunk then looking embarrassed to be observed in such feline behaviour. Eventually they came to a clearing where she could see the remains of a fire. “Does a coven meet here or something?”

“Nah, looks like teenagers. I see some beer cans and a used condom over there. Agnes used to say that if a spell needs a whole coven it’s probably not worth the effort. Anyway are you ready?” Betty nodded and looked serious.

“If this goes wrong am I going to turn you into a monster or something, like all tentacles and teeth?”

“Well there’s always a chance of that. Magic’s tricky. But I’m so over hairballs. Besides the bathroom protocols with being a cat are just unbelievably awful. I’d honestly rather be a demogorgon. I promise not to hold it against you if it goes wrong.”

“Will I recognise you? You’re not something tiny are you? Like I’m not going to breathe you in or accidentally tread on you?”

“Not tiny. Stop panicking. It’ll be fine. Or it won’t and that’s fine too, just a different kind of fine. Thanks for this. You didn’t have to help. You’ve been very cool about it. And, in case I can’t tell you later, the boobs are stupendous. Thanks for sharing.”

“Oh stop it. You’re a cat. What do you know about it? Come on, let’s get going. Should I get undressed?”

Jughead looked at her and then she could have sworn that he blushed. It was a weird thing that she could almost see his skin redden through his fur. “Actually you can do it dressed. It doesn’t matter for the spell. I don’t know why I said that. About being naked. But have the dressing gown handy anyway. Just in case.”

She tutted and shook her head at him disapprovingly. She pulled out the notes that she had made and lined up the potions and powders in the right order. Jughead found a large flat rock in the undergrowth and she dragged it into the centre of the clearing and he stood on it while she drew the runes around him, rubbing out the chalk and starting again when he shook his head at a clumsy line. Eventually it was time to begin the chant. She’d memorised it even though he said it was fine to read it because she was a quick study and she wanted to do it right for him. Then just before she began she leaned over and kissed his head, between his ears. “You’re a good puss Juggie. I hope I do it right.” He craned his head back to look up at her and reared up on his back paws to rub his head against her hand. She began the chant.

He’d warned her that it would seem like it wasn’t working, that it would take a long time, that she’d need to have faith but it seemed that she was chanting for hours. It was cold, the ground was hard and she wanted to give up but there he stood, expectantly, and she couldn’t bear to disappoint him so on she chanted. Just as her voice was beginning to crack and her eyelids to droop a tiny golden spark appeared in the air just above his ears. She chanted on. There was a strange odour in the air, ozone like at the beach but also old paper and leather like the rare volumes room at the Centreville Library. More golden glimmers appeared in the air around him like bright thistledown, floating down to rest on the rock and the fallen leaves of the forest floor. On and on she chanted. Now the sparks were silver and blue and purple as well as gold. The sky seemed to fizz with them, the forest floor crackling with energy. There was a sensation of static electricity everywhere like when there hadn’t been enough softener in the laundry and the clothes all clung together when she tried to fold them. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. On and on she intoned the words, her voice becoming louder as she dared to hope. The sparks were settling into a heap all around him. She couldn’t see his velvety paws anymore. Hours seemed to pass as she made her incantation and the sparks melded to form a brilliant wall around him, higher and higher. She could just make out his ears over the tower of magical power. She understood why he sometimes called magic glamour, it was so fascinating that she couldn’t look away even for a moment. And then even the tips of his ears were walled in by enchantment. There was a cracking sound and she scooted back on her ass as the translucent membrane that now covered him expanded in organic pulses. She didn’t know if she could stop chanting but she thought it was safer to continue. He had told her to keep her mind as clear as possible so she focused only on the words of the spell as she continued to speak them. As she spoke she felt her energy being drained from her as if she were a battery at the end of its power. She couldn’t sit up any longer and so she lay down next to the magical womb that had formed around him, still whispering the words she had learned. Her eyes began to droop closed. When she could no longer move her lips she simply thought the words, over and over again. There was movement near her, she sensed it. She opened one eye just a little and half saw a sweep of black skirts. There was the sensation of dry, papery lips brushing against her cheek and a sudden rush of longing for Riverdale as it might have been back in the fifties, sock hops and rock n’ roll, hot rods and poodle skirts. It was gone as soon as it arrived, leaving her disorientated.

Instantly there was a bolt of lightning, crashing through the trees and she dragged herself to her knees in alarm. Then heavy peals of thunder followed by the rain, torrents, a deluge, soaking the dirt around her, splashing mud into her hair and onto her skin. A bolt of lightning hit the carapace in the centre of the clearing and it was rent into shards. The air filled with the acrid smell of scorched fur and she cried out in alarm that it had hit Jughead and she swung round to look. There, crouching on the rock was a young man, naked, shivering as the rain poured over him. Betty pushed down her shock and grabbed the dressing gown. She wrapped it around him, pink Terry cloth against smooth olive skin. She dragged him under the cover of the trees and rubbed the hood of the robe against dripping tendrils of black hair. He turned Jughead’s blue eyes on her and whispered hoarsely, “Thank you Betty. You did so great. Thank you.”

She dragged him back to the car, him sagging against her, unsteady on his feet, lurching forwards as if about to drop onto all fours, her trying to support him despite her own exhaustion. Finally they collapsed into the vehicle, gasping for breath, beginning to laugh in bone-weary spasms. “You’re a fucking human Juggie!”

“I told you. We can be any species. I happen to be human. There aren’t many of us but that’s why I freaked Agnes out. She couldn’t get used to there being a human man in her house.”

“And you’re young? How can you be young?”

“Witches and familiars age as much as they want to. I stopped at eighteen when I went to Agnes. Didn’t seem worth being an old cat. Hey what do I look like? I wonder if I’m the same.” He scooted nearer to her so he could look in the rear view mirror. As he did so she couldn’t control the thought that maybe she had conjured him in the image of the sexy boyfriend she’d been picturing when she’d talked with Kev. “Yeah, pretty close. Hair’s darker but I guess that’s a hangover from being a black cat. Hold on a sec, excuse me.” He turned away from her and opened the robe and looked down. “Hey, all present and correct there. Hello old fella, good to have you back. Good work Betts.” She shook her head again in wonder that he could be an eighty year old magical creature and yet still be entirely a teenage guy. 

Suddenly a thought struck her. “Oh my God Juggie. What are we going to do with you?”

“I’m sorry. I was just checking. It matters to a guy Betts.” 

“No, I mean I thought you were going to be a dog or a rooster or something ordinary so I could tell my parents you’re a pet but you’re a boy. Where are you going to live? Where am I going to put you now?”

“Well the enchantment is still working so if we go back to your place they won’t see me.”

“But you’re a boy! You can’t sleep with me.”

“I’ve been sleeping with you for over a week. Girl you ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen. And I was just wet and naked in a forest so you must have seen what all I’ve got going on. What’s the problem? Oh, it’s the boob thing isn’t it? I did say I was sorry about that.”

“Oh for God’s sake. I can’t just move a hot guy into my bedroom and hope my parents don’t notice. What are you going to eat?”

“Am I a hot guy? Hey Betts, are you in love with me already? Aww. I love you a little you know. I mean there’s the boobs and…”

“Stop. Just stop. Be serious.” 

He looked into her eyes in a way that made her heart pound in her throat and set his lips in a straight line. “OK. Sorry. I’m a little giddy. Let’s go to your place now and get some sleep. Enchantment will hold til tomorrow at least. I can sleep on the floor if my man appeal is too overwhelming for your girlish passions. Then tomorrow we’ll go to Pop’s and you can buy me three cheeseburgers, onion rings, two orders of fries and a milkshake and we’ll make a plan for the future. Oh but first buy me a pack of smokes and a coffee on the way to your place now for the love of all that’s holy. I’ll pay you back.”

They were both so exhausted that the awkwardness that Betty had feared didn’t arise. She rummaged in the drier and dragged out a pair of her dad’s pyjama pants. He put them on, modestly turning away but giving her a clear view of a perfect ass, and they collapsed onto her bed just as they had all week. He curled against her as if he were simply a larger cat than he had been previously. He seemed to have a greater number of elbows than a normal human but she guessed that was because he was a little gawky. He was mumbling that he felt like his knees were on backwards. She moved across to accommodate him and they fell asleep in moments. She woke early to find him close behind her, his arm around her and his long fingers cupping her breast. While it felt odd, and made her feel a little odd in its turn, it was a nice odd, an exciting odd, a thrilling, fireworks in her belly odd. There was some kind of instinct that was trying to make her push backwards against him with her butt but she wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t know what would happen if she did that so she lay perfectly still. Gradually the sunlight through the drapes made him stir and he made a humming noise that would have been a purr if he had still been a cat. He wasn’t as alert as her and he squeezed her boob and thrust gently against her before he opened his eyes. What she felt made her heart leap and her belly clench with excitement and desire. He came to his senses abruptly and sat up. “Oh Jesus Betty. God I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…Oh God. It was easier being a cat. I see what you mean though. I can’t wake up with you every day or I’ll go a little crazy.”

She reached out and stroked the side of his face. “It’s OK Juggie. I kind of liked it. Is that wrong?”

“No, of course not. It’s great. But we do need to talk about stuff. Let me have a couple hours to get my shit together and I’ll meet you at Pop’s yeah? I have some errands.”  
She didn’t really understand what errands an ex cat could have but she nodded and he jumped out of bed before remembering that all he had to change into was her pink bathrobe. He looked at her in alarm and she snuck to her dad’s closet and found some sweatpants and an old golf shirt. It wasn’t a great look because her dad was half a foot shorter and quite a few pounds heavier but he wore the sweatpants on his hips so they reached somewhere close to his ankles and he borrowed a pair of her pool sliders which almost fitted onto his feet and took off once she had established that her folks had already gone out.

By the time he arrived at Pop’s he had transformed himself. He wore dark jeans and a white tank top, heavy army boots and a leather jacket. His hair had clearly been cut. It was still a little messy and the front fell into his eyes but now it was obviously by design. He looked like both Jim Stark and Bender from the Breakfast Club but also a little like a cat. He slid sinuously into the booth and Betty grinned at Pop who came over and placed a chocolate milkshake in front of him. “Order will be right up Betty.”

He grinned across at her and went to lap at the shake before he caught himself and picked up the glass and drained it in four long swallows. His throat fascinated her, his Adam’s Apple jerking as he swallowed. “Ooh, brain freeze,” he moaned putting a hand to the top of his head and then smiling again. “So good to be human at last. I can’t tell you the relief.”

“How did you manage to pay for clothes and haircuts? Or did you cast a spell for them?” 

“No, that’s kind of rule one. Never cast for your own benefit. I know we kinda already did but we were just setting something right. Anyway when you cast yourself better fortune it comes around and bites you in the ass at some point. So it’s a no no. And I’m not supposed to cast without you anyway. I mean I can, but it’s bad form and you shouldn’t cast without me if it’s avoidable. No I’ve been out to the old place. Weird to see it as a human again. Agnes wasn’t big on banks. She kept her money in a hollow tree on the property. I couldn’t do much about it when I only had paws but I think she’d want me to take some of it to get myself together. There was three thousand dollars. Not much but it’s a start. Do you think it’s OK to take it? Witches tend not to have family to inherit.”

“I’m pretty sure you earned three thousand dollars in the last sixty years Juggie. It’s fine. And I think she was with us in spirit last night, helping us. I was feeling the hiraeth.”

They ate and planned. Jughead appeared to need to consume his own body weight in burgers. Every few minutes he would forget what kind of animal he was and go to lick the back of his hand, once or twice actually getting it behind his ear before he stopped himself looking embarrassed and upset. “Fuck, that’s so bizarre. I don’t even know I’m doing it. I have to break that habit or everyone is going to think I’m a total weirdo.”

“We’ll get you a hat. That’ll remind you and a lot of guys always wear their beanies, even indoors,” she smiled and took his hand across the table. Eventually they came up with a scheme. Jug would say that he was an emancipated minor, his dad was in jail, his mom had abandoned him. They’d find him a cheap apartment or maybe a place at the trailer park and he’d enrol in school. They’d say they’d met when he moved to town and were boyfriend and girlfriend. That way no-one would question the time they spent together while Jug helped with her spell casting.

“So are we saying that we’re dating or are we dating?” he asked, looking at her through his hair shyly.

“Do you want to date?” she replied with equal hesitancy.

“I do, but if we break up we still have to be witch and familiar. If we do it, it has to be for the long haul.”

“I think it would be awkward to be witch and familiar and have me pining over you and wanting to kiss you and stuff if we don’t date. So I guess we just have to figure it out as we go.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that. Shall we get started?”

“What with?”

“Come here. I’ll show you.” She leaned across the table and he made the most of the opportunity to look down her blouse before putting a hand at the back of her head and bringing his lips to hers. He kissed her softly at first but when she let her tongue run over his lip he groaned a little and pulled her head towards him with his hand ,opening his mouth. He tasted of salt and ice cream and she thought he was delicious although his tongue felt just a little sandpapery.

**Author's Note:**

> The Garden by Moonlight  
> BY AMY LOWELL  
> A black cat among roses,  
> Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon,  
> The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock.  
> The garden is very still,  
> It is dazed with moonlight,  
> Contented with perfume,  
> Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies.  
> Firefly lights open and vanish  
> High as the tip buds of the golden glow  
> Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet.  
> Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises,  
> Moon-spikes shafting through the snow ball bush.  
> Only the little faces of the ladies’ delight are alert and staring,  
> Only the cat, padding between the roses,  
> Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern  
> As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.  
> Then you come,  
> And you are quiet like the garden,  
> And white like the alyssum flowers,  
> And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies.  
> Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies?  
> They knew my mother,  
> But who belonging to me will they know  
> When I am gone.


End file.
